Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. “Silly!” he remarked after a pause. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. ‘Eh bien, you are not like Leonardo. He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats.
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